It is early morning in the mountains of Leicester/Asheville mountains. From my loft bedroom I can see the leaves dancing in the wind. The light is peaking through branches like a child playing hide and seek. I love this tree house loft, you really feel as if you are up among the trees. A cold front came through last night and it will much cooler today and tonight. For someone who hasn't been in lower than 80 degrees all summer it feels quite chilly! Vinci is asleep. He is enjoying the mountain smells, the mountain dogs that visit, and hanging out the window on our afternoon drives. He is not quite sure about the cows and horses, for a city dog they seem all very strange. But he hangs his head out the window and sniffs in the cool mountain air, it seems to refresh him as it does me. A drive down Potato Creek road seems to do us both good. Watching the farmers harvest crops and plant new ones is a revival of the earth so basic and ancient it is affirming to watch. The tobacco leaves are ready for picking and some are drying in sepia tones in old wood barnes with rough hewn siding. The world is different here, no sirens, no traffic, no airplanes, less rush, more simple. I can feel the layers of tension rolling off, and a settling in of my self, a centering of myself. I sleep better in this cool mountain air and for right now most worries are far far away. It is a good place within me and within this place of natures beauty to do art. I think it is hard not to do art when surrounded by nature's beauty.
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